JUNE 1 - 4

DAKOTA

Hollywood felt like a world away, but it followed me everywhere. Whether I was behind the camera on the set of Apex or dodging the influx of paparazzi on the island, I couldn't escape the reality that it was a part of me now. I could no longer be at war with my identity.

And so I threw myself into my work.

We were preparing to film a scene when the protagonist - Brenna's character - drowns. Though the scene was designed to occur in the ocean, it was going to be filmed in a large fish tank. There were a lot of technicalities to consider when filming a scene like this, intricate details that I was determined to incorporate. I refused to settle for anything other than perfect.

Brenna claimed not to be nervous, but I thought that was an act. While nothing out of the ordinary had occurred recently, we still feared that events from the screenplay might translate into reality. A drowning on Friday Island would have dire consequences; it would indicate that we were all heading into dangerous territory.

It was Monday evening when I found the time to take a break and stopped by the movie theater on Front Street. The lobby reeked of burnt popcorn, a telltale sign of a new employee, and I smiled to myself. That damn machine was my nemesis back when I first started working here. 

I located Syd at the ticket stand with Allix sitting in the chair next to him.

Technically, Allix wasn't allowed to be behind the ticket stand, but she was an exception to the rule. The reason for that was because the owner, a woman named Joan, happened to adore us. She was a cheerful woman in her sixties with a passion for film and dotting on her employees as though she was their fairy godmother. When we were in high school, she was constantly trying to hire Allix or serve her free food from the concession stand. Neither were ever accepted.

"Hey," I greeted and hated that I didn't immediately register why they were both wearing rainbow attire. Luckily, my confusion didn't last longer than a second. "Happy Pride Month."

Allix graced me with a radiant smile. "The first day is my favorite."

Syd, wearing his rainbow beanie like a crown, draped an arm around Allix's bare shoulders. "You'd tell us if we were bad allies, right?"

"Of course," she said. When she glanced up at me, her eyes lit up like sapphires catching in the sun. "I'm pretty sure I saved your poster from last year's Seattle Pride Parade. The one with all of the glitter."

"The same glitter that you sprinkled in my hair," I recalled, wrinkling my nose at the memory. "It wouldn't come out for a month."

"Tragic but festive."

"Can you proofread this?" Syd asked suddenly, sliding his phone in front of Allix.

It was a text message, but I couldn't make out the contact on the screen. There appeared to be a purple square emoji accompanying the name. It might have been one of the Zodiac signs.

"Don't be an idiot," Allix scolded after a beat, returning Syd's phone. "If you're going to ask her out, do it in person."

I stiffened, realizing that I was entirely out of the loop. I wouldn't flatter myself and think that I always had a handle on what was going on in my friends' lives, but I prided myself on being a quality confidante.

"Syd," I stated, feeling awfully needy. "Who's the girl?"

Syd threw his hands up in mock defense. "Jesus Christ, everyone needs to take a chill pill. For starters, I'm not asking Brenna out. I'm asking her to hang out. There's a difference."

Brenna. Of course, the girl was Brenna.

I shared a look with Allix, her eyes smiling. I was learning that her mood easily swayed my own. That probably counted for something.

Meanwhile, Syd shot me an embarrassed smile as he sank lower in his chair. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't want to make it weird."

"You don't have anything to worry about, trust me," I reassured him. I wasn't about to be an asshole to my best friend simply because he's taking an interest in my only real friend from Hollywood. I didn't own my friendship with Brenna.

"Okay, but I'm not asking her out," Syd clarified and narrowed his eyes at a very amused Allix. "Also, since when did you become an expert on giving girl advice or whatever?"

She threw him a deadpan look. "I happen to be a girl, and I've dated another girl."

"Okay, fine. You're qualified."

"Honestly, you're better off asking Dakota." Allix nodded in my direction. "He's the one who wrote a sappy and romantic TV show."

"Apex isn't sappy or romantic," I defended a little too passionately. I knew she was just trying to get under my skin, but I couldn't resist defending Apex. It was my precious child.

Allix waved me off with a tiny smile as she stood up, adjusting her rainbow tube top that started slipping down. I caught myself tracking her movements, and she appeared to as well.

It was a hiccup of awkwardness.

"I should probably get going," she blurted out, glancing down at the watch on her bony wrist. "I have work in an hour, and I need to pick up my uniform."

"Are you still working at Providence Point?" Syd asked before I could conjure up a response.

It was a blessing in disguise, really, because I had no clue what words might've tumbled out of my mouth. Nothing of value, that was for sure.

Allix nodded, gripping the strap of her bag so tightly that her knuckles strained white. "Sailing instructor. It's only twenty-five hours each week."

"Lucky," Syd grumbled. "Forty hours makes me want to gauge my eyes out."

"Thank you for that visual," she muttered, tossing a lock of hair over her shoulder. "Bye."

"Bye," Syd and I said in unison.

Allix left too fast, too abruptly. It felt like a scene in a romantic comedy when the bewildered guy chased after the incandescent girl in an attempt to figure out what the hell was going on.

Except I knew better.

"That was weird," Syd observed, lifting both brows.

I cleared my throat. "What? Weird how?"

"She's acting secretive," Syd elaborated, leaning back in his chair. "More than usual, at least. I bet it has something to do with Brenna."

That wasn't a revolutionary assumption. If anything, Syd was only reaffirming my own observations that Brenna and Allix were keeping something big a secret. I never got around to asking Brenna about her abrupt change in behavior, but I also wanted to wait and see how the situation played out without interfering. Sometimes, the best course of action was to do nothing. Let the chips fall where they may.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "They went sailing after our brunch debacle. It's probably safe to assume that it wasn't Allix's idea."

"But is that code for something in, like, girl language?" Syd questioned with a pensive frown. "When I asked Allix about it, she dodged me politician style. It was just hella weird."

"I can't afford to overthink this," I shook my head. I was talking more to myself than to Syd because I couldn't afford to have Allix McGovern unintentionally messing with my head. "When was the last time she gave us a straightforward answer, anyway?"

*

I heard Brenna gasp for air.

A few moments later, she emerged from the fish tank. She marched over to where I sat in my director's chair, dripping wet and scowling.

"I've drowned ten times today," Brenna informed me as though I haven't been keeping track. "Please tell me that was the last time."

"I'll keep you posted," I retorted, keeping an eye on my laptop. The most recent take will be uploaded momentarily.

"Thanks, boss," Brenna muttered through gritted teeth. "I'm going to go track down some dry clothes."

As I watched her strut away, I allowed myself to deliberate her compatibility with Syd and decided that they weren't total opposites. Despite Brenna's sassy and frankly spoiled demeanor, she never hung me out to dry.

When we first met at the Golden Globes, our friendship wasn't just one of convenience. Brenna acted as my tour guide on how to navigate life in the spotlight. She was willing to share her insider experience and was literally a shoulder to cry on when I hit my emotional rock bottom in that damn hotel room in Beverly Hills.

So, even if Syd just wanted to hang out with Brenna, I thought they had a shot at being a good couple. Or maybe that's just the romantic part of me projecting.

Across the set, I saw Conrad talking to one of the cameramen and Myself Bennett. I couldn't hear what they were discussing, but I caught Conrad's eye and he waved me over.

"Dakota, here's the deal," Conrad started, mildly condescending. "I know you want to portray scenes like this one accurately, but Myles makes a valid point. We need it to be a little more dramatic."

"She's drowning," I responded coolly, directing my words at Myles. The guy was constantly trying to undermine me. "Is that not dramatic enough for you?"

"It's too quiet," Myles asserted, directing a finger at the laptop, where the latest take played. I watched Brenna quietly slip beneath the water's surface. "There's not enough fear."

I shook my head. "In real life, drowning victims don't thrash around or cry out for help. All of their energy goes into staying above water, getting oxygen into their lungs."

Myles glared at me, his brown eyes darkening. "None of this is real-"

"We're going to give it another go," Conrad intervened and gave me a thin smile. "If it's too unrealistic, we'll abandon the approach altogether."

I grimaced. "Brenna won't be pleased."

"She's earning her paycheck," Conrad retorted.

Much to my dismay, we gave it another go. Brenna's character drowned for the eleventh time today - loudly and very dramatically - with Myles flashing me a smug smile once we finished.

I ended my work day with a considerable chip on my shoulder and was about to unlock my car when someone called my name. When I reluctantly turned around to see Mike Bennett approaching, it was almost embarrassing how relieved I was that it wasn't his brother coming to bask in his meager victory.

"Looks like you've had a rough day," Mike said with a knowing smile. Unlike his clean-shaven brother, he was sporting a classic goatee.

I tucked my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. "It could've been worse."

"To be honest, I'm not surprised to see Conrad so worked up. Everyone has their Achilles' heel, and those accusations are nasty."

"Accusations," I repeated, feeling my brows pull together. "You've lost me."

"Conrad is one of those people who think they're invincible,  too successful to become a victim of falsehood," Mike replied, lowering his voice. "It isn't something I like to hear or repeat."

I stayed quiet for a moment, processing Mike's words. I didn't want to bite on what my gut told me was bait, but I also didn't want to be rude. "I'd like to believe that since I haven't heard anything, Conrad is out of the woods."

Mike nodded, but didn't appear to agree with me. "I hope you know that no one wants your career to crash and burn. The industry needs young blood, and it also needs to cut out the poison."

I inhaled, and it felt like I was about to choke on the oxygen flooding through my airways. I understood what Mike was trying to convey. "This is Conrad we're talking about."

"Weinstein was praised until the day he wasn't. Justice is starting to be served, but we should remember that not all French aristocrats condemned to the guillotine were guilty of treason."

"We're lucky that Conrad isn't Weinstein or Robespierre," I stated. I clenched my jaw so hard I feared it would wire itself shut.

"I want you to be prepared for what you might hear," Mike said as he began to back away. "That dead orca is an invitation for our enemies to make our lives a living hell. I suggest you speak to Miss Brenna Quinn. She may be able to tell you more than I can."

I awarded Mike the last word. My hands were shaking when I set them on the steering wheel, trying to convince myself that the only thing I could do right now was go home. This was just one more mystery I needed to solve.